


Vs.

by Broba



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broba/pseuds/Broba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I loved doing this so much! The prompt was just so special. GH and Summoner- neighbourly enemies trying to raise their kids in suburbia! I'm not doing justice to it, it was really an awesome prompt. As I got into this one, I became more and more affectionate to the characters, to the extend that it was a real wrench to have to finish it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sunshine broke over the privet hedges and picket fences of Acacia avenue on a brilliant spring Tuesday, and as the day started the usual routines held sway. Children were packed off to school grumbling and arguing, and grown-ups prepared for the day's labours in no better a mood. In the long curving road that was lined with identical suburban homes a bright yellow school bus rolled, picking up passengers at regular intervals.  
  
The air was redolent with the first pollen of the year, fresh and yellowy-warm. The door to the Makara residence was thrust open by the booted foot of the man of that house. Young Gamzee was unceremoniously dumped on the driveway and the door slammed shut again hard enough to cause a cat to fall over. The lad picked himself up with a high pitched grunt and ran a hand through his wild hair, before wandering a little unsteadily toward the garden gate.  
  
In the neighbouring garden, young Tavros carefully eased down the ramp from the front door in his wheelchair by his father, who fussed over him incessantly the whole time. Gamzee paused to watch them boredly. Tavros bickered half heartedly as his unruly hair was tamed into a slick black track by his father who wielded a comb with merciless precision. The man bent over to kiss the top of Tavros' head and placed a packed lunch in his lap. Gamzee licked his lips subconsciously; his best friend always had the finest lunches, and if memory served Tuesday was Bologna sandwich with macrobiotic yoghurt. Gamzee was not interested in the yoghurt.  
  
The ramshackle door to the Makara house was kicked open again and from within boomed a voice that sounded like someone playing Slipknot down a long tube.  
"LUUUUUUUNCH!"  
A paper sack flew through the air and hit Gamzee on the side of the head, falling to the floor. Gamzee absently picked it up and looked within. It contained half a tube of glue, an empty miniature plastic bottle of scotch whiskey and what appeared to be a receipt from a pornographic video store. Across the hedge Tavros waved at him, and his dad straightened up and muttered darkly, swivelling his son towards the waiting bus. He caught the baleful eye of Gamzee's dad in the shadows within his dwelling and nodded to be polite.  
"Makara."  
 _"Nnnnnitram."_ He always said it like he was trying to expel the word from his nose.  
  
In truth the actual source of the emnity between the men was long lost in the mists of memory. They had moved into Acacia avenue on practically the same day and immediately rubbed each other up the wrong way. Makara was disgusted by the bourgeois lifestyle of the more buttoned-down and serious Nitram, and for his part Nitram couldn't abide Makara's incessant ranting about art, politics and "the government." Nitram would have suspected that he was a communist except that he despised the working man almost as much as he loathed the wealthy elite.  
  
Makara narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of the plump and lovingly folded lunch bag on Tavros' lap. He was acutely aware that whatever he had randomly pulled out of his refrigerator and stuffed into an old bag he found near the trash five minutes ago barely compared. He growled under his breath and slammed the door. Nitram sniffed and propelled his son towards the bus.  
"Now remember to pay attention today Tavros, I don't want to hear that you'd been forgetting about your homework again."  
"Uh, I know dad,"  
"And I'll be waiting for you at the school gate tonight, I won't be staying late at the surgery,"  
"Oh, okay."  
He helped Tavros up onto the bus, which had a special folding ramp to accommodate him. Nitram had lobbied the PTA relentlessly to get it installed. As he stepped away from the bus, waving to his son, the insufferable Makara boy pushed past him to clamber aboard. The boy looked like he was still half asleep, and when he just stood there staring up at the driver she had to reach out and plant a hand on the top of his head, swivelling him toward the back of the bus and giving him a pat to send him going. Nitram smiled and gave her a nervous wave.  
"Ah, drive careful, now!"  
"Relax, I got aaaaaaaall the children!"  
With this gnomic statement the door clanked shut and the bus rolled on.  
  
Gamzee strolled down the bus towards the alcove where Tavros could park his wheelchair. He balanced himself by holding on to a seat, swaying in time to the bus' motion, and grinned. Tavros beamed back at his friend. They had only just started going to school, and had fast become the best of friends. Being away from their respective fathers all day had allowed them the time to get to know each other, and they were completely inseparable while they were at school.  
  
Nitram sighed as he pulled his overcoat on and walked to his car. He had made it very clear to his secretary that he was no longer going to work extra hours in the surgery and to refuse emergency appointments after three o'clock, but it was becoming difficult to adjust. Now that Tavros was in school he at least didn't have to worry about arranging for a maid to be home during the day, but he wasn't used to the new routine yet. He glanced at the Makara house. Already loud music was blaring from within, and he saw through a grubby window a black shape dancing about waving a paintbrush. He sighed and shook his head, getting in his sensible car. Some people get all the luck, he thought.  
  
Unfortunately the day did not go as planned. The surgery was filled up with patients and they just kept coming- when it came time for Nitram to leave he was still thumb-deep in an infected house-cat and had a parakeet with an alarming sore throat to see to next. It was no kind of easy life, being a vet. Nitram realised to his horror that he was never going to be able to get to the school in time to pick up Tavros as he had promised he would. He gestured frantically at his nurse with a series of nods, his hands were still filled keeping the cat placated while he did something unspeakable to one end of it.  
"You have to call my son's school, tell them I'm running late," he sighed and turned to present a hip, "the number's in my phone, please!"  
"I see," she reached in his trouser picket for his phone to make the call. She had the most calm and professional tone at all times, he found that she could be an oasis of calm in the chaos of the surgery.  
"Thank you, I just need to get these last two finished. I promised I wouldn't stay late tonight!"  
"I'm sure little Tavros will understand, besides you know how he loves animals, he wouldn't want you to leave until you had done all you needed to."  
"I suppose. Thanks, Maryam, you're a sweetheart."  
"Just try to be a little more organised tomorrow, you'll get the hang of it."  
  
Outside of the school, his front wheels resting neatly on the painted line between the gates, Tavros waited patiently. The other children filed past, either to a school bus or to waiting parents. Gamzee was hanging about aimlessly, and soon the other children were gone, and they were left stood there together. Gamzee thoughtfully licked at the remnants of glue smeared around his lips. One of the teachers walked toward them. She knelt down to talk to Tavros, explaining that his father would be late, and promised to wait with him. Gamzee looked on warily, he was faintly distrustful of teachers. They were always trying to tell him how things like how to tell the time or the colours of the rainbow, which he felt was something of an imposition on their part. His own dad was supposed to be picking him up, or something, he forgot the exact details.  
  
Soon enough a churning cloud in the distance resolved into the glossy black shape of the Makara family's Packard, which slid to a halt in the parking lot, rudely swerving across two entire parking spaces. Makara himself got out and strode to the gates, his various buckles and badges glinting in the late afternoon gloaming. Gamzee ran up to him with a playful giggle and collided against his leg, hugging on tightly. Makara just grunted in acknowledgement, nodding to the teacher. He was about to turn on his heel and leave when he felt little Gamzee tugging insistently on one of the looped chains on his belt. He stopped and looked down, looming over his son.  
"WHAT?!" He enquired curiously.  
"Tav hasn't got anyone to take him home! His dad is all, like, not here!"  
 _"Nnnnitram."_  
"We should take Tav with us, he's my friend!"  
"That little STOOL?" Makara pointed directly at Tavros, who to be fair was only a few feet away and could hear every word.  
"Mister Makara!" It was the teacher chick. Makara groaned and ran a hand through his hair, the same way that Gamzee always did.  
"Yeah, sorry, I mean to say that little, uh, COOL guy."  
"Mister Makara, I believe that your boy is best friends with young Tavros here?"  
"Hrm."  
"And you live right next-door to him don't you?"  
"BOY what have you been saying?"  
She sighed wearily, "Would you please look after him for just a little while? Mister Nitram has said he will only be delayed for a short time, and we could let him know that his son is safely at his neighbour's house. I feel just awful seeing him waiting here like this."  
"Please!" Gamzee was tugging at his belt again, "da-a-ad!"  
"FUCK!" Announced Makara resignedly. When the teacher glared at him, he amended his comment, "I mean, fuckin' GREAT!"  
  
Gamzee squealed happily and grabbed Tavros, who protested weakly as he was rolled towards the big waiting car.  
"Stick him in the back," roared Makara, "and leave plenty o' room, we need to make a detour on the way."  
"How come, dad?"  
Makara rolled his eyes, "I got a call before I came out. Your gran' mom wants to visit for a while, her house is fucked with these creepy lil' bugs and they're gassin' the fuck out of it."  
"Aww yeah! Gramzee!"


	2. Chapter 2

The big old car pulled up to a house a few miles outside of town, which was indeed being very thoroughly fumigated. The entire detached building was covered in a garish plastic tent beneath which generations of, as Makara put it, creepy little bugs were perishing.  
  
Gramzee Makara was fascinating to Tavros, he had never seen anyone so old before. She looked like a withered gnarled old tree had decided to wander around in an old shawl glaring at people. She had a knobbly chin that thrust forwards and she grimaced. She had thick round glasses that made her eyes look enormous, and a steel-grey bun of hair with wild filaments floating around it. He was especially intrigued by the way she never stopped moving- she seemed to be in a permanent state of nervous trembling and she constantly nodded as she talked, as if agreeing with herself. When they arrived she was already stood patiently at the verge of her neat little lawn, leaning on a black wood cane with a wide old-fashioned carpet bag on the ground next to her.  
  
Mr Makara heaved himself out of the car to pick up her bag, and Tavros watched wide-eyed from the back as Gramzee chided him mercilessly for making him wait.  
"Ach! So long I have been stood here- your own mother and you would see me dead on my feet!"  
"Sorry mom." Said Makara flatly, lifting her enormous bag easily.  
"And the hair! How many times, will I never live to see your beautiful face again under all that hair?"  
"Sorry mom." He was gritting his teeth.  
"Now where is my bubbuleh, I have a surprise for a good little boy who helps his bubbe to the car-"  
"Gramzee!"  
  
Gamzee was already out of the car and running for her, he bounced up and down and orbited her like a mayfly as she hobbled over. Gramzee insisted on sitting in the back "as a lady," and so ended up wedged between Tavros and her grandson. She immediately started fussing over them both delightedly while Mister Makara grumbled bitterly to himself and packed away her things.  
"Oh so big! Where is my little pisher gone, who is this big strong man I see here?"  
"It's me, Gramzee!"  
"Ahhh here he is-" she ruffled Tavros' hair and beamed toothily.  
"No Gramzee, I'm here!, I'm he-e-e-ere!"  
"Nonsense my little bubbeleh can't be such a big boy already!"  
"No Gramzee that's Tavros he's my best friend!"  
"To think I would not know my most favourite, for shame!" She winked theatrically at Tavros, while Gamzee bounced up and down impatiently, waving for attention.  
"It's me! It's me! Gramzee-ee-ee!"  
  
The car was rocked violently as Mr Makara got in and slammed the door, gunning the engine and powering away as fast as was practical. For the entire journey home Gramzee gave him the full benefit of her years of experience in all matters, to provide him with a running commentary on how he was driving and things he should watch out for. Gamzee loved every moment and when she started handing out strangely flavoured but wonderfully strong peppermints from a paper bag Tavros decided he liked her too.  
  
When they arrived Gramzee decided very quickly that the Makara household was badly in need of a woman's touch and the way that Mr Makara chose to live was frankly not up to her expectations- an entire list of which she could list at a moment's notice. She immediately went into the kitchen and, in some ill-defined yet very real way, took possession of the house. It was remarkable how a pot of boiling chicken stock on the stove and a huge pot of tea- she had brought her own iron pot, it was practically a samovar, added warmth to the whole place. She opened up the kitchen windows and went through all the cupboards, taking inventory with the ruthless terrifying efficiency of a Napoleonic quartermaster. When she had got the rudiments of a supper heating up, she finally consented to seat herself in a wooden chair at the head of the big kitchen table that Mr Makara used to strip down his motorcycle engine. Needless to say, any hint of a male presence was swept from the kitchen by the unstoppable tsunami that was Gramzee Makara. She consented to have her son pour her a healthy shot of raw schnapps and knocked it back in one go.  
  
"Ah-h-h it is good to see you again, how long has it been since you spoke to your poor lonely mother, wasting away all alone?"  
"You call me every weekend, mom."  
"Ach, is not the same and you know it. And your little Gamzee, how big is he now? I think he will be a giant! Have you been feeding him enough? A growing boy needs his food!"  
"He's five, mom."  
"He's a Makara, you listen to your mother when she says what she knows to be true, he will be six feet if he's an inch!"  
"Yes, mom."  
"Now, have you given any thought to what you want to do for a career?"  
He groaned with a noise like millstones grinding, "Mom! I have a career! I'm an artist!"  
"Ach," she waved the suggestion away, "you paint, good, the world loves a pretty picture, but what will you do for a living?"  
"My work is a reflection of the chaos and ugliness that surrounds-"  
"Do you still like to use all the colours?"  
Mr Makara stared at her stonily for a moment. "Yes, mom," he intoned, "I still like to use all the colours."  
"You know Mrs Pyrope, she lives down that little road near the river, he told me the other day that her girl is training to be a lawyer. Can you imagine such a thing? And all the while she has a daughter of her own to look after, such a sweet girl."  
The air was pregnant with expectation. Gramzee stared inscrutably.  
"I don't want to be a lawyer, mom."  
"Well you could at least think about it! You are so clever, you could always take a course-"  
  
They were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Makara bolted from the room so fast his boot heels left rubbery skid trails across the kitchen floor. He wrenched open the door gratefully, but his expression immediately soured.  
 _"Nnnnitram."_  
"Hello Makara," said Nitram gratingly (for it was he,) "I got a call from the school, apparently you agreed to pick up my son?"  
"Sure whatever, I parked the little shits in front of the TV." He just stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot aimlessly.  
"Well," said Nitram, a little nonplussed, "can I go and get him? Or do you want to chat some more first?" He wasn't in the mood. It had been a long day, and the fact that Makara of all people had picked up his son because he had been too busy to get there on time had put him in a truly foul mood.  
From inside the house came a voice, "Who is it? Ask them if they want some tea, I just put on a fresh pot!"  
Makara grinned and stepped to one side, gesturing Nitram in. He muttered under his breath, "well I was goin' to warn ya."  
  
The boys were happily playing together, they were ignoring the TV which Makara had carelessly turned to a twenty-four hour bowling tournament in Boulder. Tavros had rolled himself up to a side table and Gamzee was describing a variety of scenes which he would illustrate, leading to inevitable bouts of giggles. The two of them were conspiring in hushed tones about the proper shading technique to suggest a totally gnarly looking lizard when Nitram entered. He stood at the door and watched them for a moment, and the weight of the day seemed to evaporate from his shoulders, cares buoyed up by the hesitant but joyous laughter of his son.  
  
Before he could say anything he was being summoned into the kitchen domain of Gramzee Makara who wanted to meet the father of the lovely boy who had been so polite and said thank you for every peppermint he had been offered. Nitram had only intended to get his son and leave as soon as possible, but when Gramzee found out- through some kind of interrogative technique that was as baffling as it was effective- that he was a vet- "practically a doctor!" She exclaimed- she insisted he stay for dinner along with Tavros. Nitram looked sheepishly at Makara who just shrugged powerlessly.  
  
The evening went surprisingly painlessly. In fact, Gramzee could produce an incredibly filling and warming meal out of practically anything, and since he had been living on his own Nitram couldn't remember the last time he had dined on anything that didn't come in a cardboard box and come out of a microwave. Tavros was in heaven, he got to swap conspiratorial jokes with Gamzee the entire meal which none of the adults could penetrate but the boys apparently found incredibly hilarious, and if she was incredibly forward at least Gramzee directed her nosiness at everyone present fairly. Makara grumbled the entire time until Gramzee berated him into sitting up straight with an audible crack and not gazing into his soup the entire time or else, as she put it, he'd only end eating a spoon of his own sour looks.  
  
Afterwards, the boys insisted on dragging Gramzee off to inspect the imaginary worlds they had created out of spit and crayon, and Makara sagged with a groan.  
"At least that's over, they'll keep her busy for an hour or two."  
"I think your mother is very nice, Makara."  
"Of COURSE you do, EVERYONE does, but they never had to LIVE with her. I swear, one of these days I'm movin' her to Florida."  
"I think she'd have something to say about that. Or else Florida would."  
Makara snorted, it was the nearest he could bring himself to laughing in Nitram's presence.  
"I wanted to say," began Nitram hesitantly, "you really helped me out of a bind today. Thanks, and all."  
"Fuck, ain't even a think. My little shit would have whined all night if I hadn't brought along your little shit."  
"Uh, yes. Well, it was very good of you. Damn decent."  
"Yur."  
Nitram tapped his fingertips together and looked around the room. Makara swirled his spoon around in the dregs of his soup idly.  
"I never pegged you as Jewish," said Nitram, more for something to say then anything.  
"What, a Jew can't be as fuckin' badass as me?"  
"N-no not at all! I just," he shrugged, "it's not like you come across as particularly..."  
"We're not exactly practisin'."  
"Mm."  
Nitram patted his pocket and produced a packet of cigarettes.  
"Would you mind if I...? It's been a really long day, I'll just step outside,"  
"Fuck yeah! I'll join ya."  
  
They repaired through the back door into the car port where Makara's motorcycle, in a permanent state of semi-disassembly, lay in repose under a sheet. Nitram thumbed a cigarette from the packet and tapped the end, lighting up with the pure and grateful sigh. The day had been hot and frustrating and long, and the sting of smoke at the back of his throat felt like the caress of a lover and old friend.  
  
He nearly choked on it when Makara sidled up to him holding an enormous porcelain bong shaped like a wizard and requested a light.  
"Jesus Makara!"  
"What? I thought you wanted a smoke."  
"Yeah, but..."  
"What's wrong _Nnnnitram,_ feelin' a bit too pussy?"  
"Hey I went through college in my day, I just haven't touched the stuff since."  
"Yeah well now's the time to start. For real, check this shit out-"  
Makara produced a baggie and waved it triumphantly, it was stuffed full of what Nitram assumed was something highly illegal. The green bud looked almost frosted with crystalline deposits, and tinged with purple.  
"What is it?"  
"What do you think it is, douche? This is the shit they gave marines in 'Nam so they wouldn't fear the Cong!"  
"I really don't think they-"  
"Whatever! Gramzee always has the best stash, she says it helps her glaucoma. I reckon' she's a bigass stoner."  
"You stole it from your mother?"  
"Fuck, I'm totally saving her from the demon weed. This is practically a mitzvah. I'm, like, obliged to chong up a bowl of this fine fine Caribbean cabbage. Fuckin' pass me a light!"  
  
Time passed. In the skewed perspective of the two men sat on the floor of the garage, it seemed that at least seventeen hours had fled past in a blur. Makara was holding a broom like a guitar and miming ripping out some noxiously poison licks while making the noises himself, and Nitram was convinced that he was the next Bob Marley.  
"Buffalo soldi-yah!"  
"Wow wakka wow wow,"  
"In the heart of Amer-i-ca!"  
"Wakka wham wow,"  
"Stolen from Afri-caah! Brought to Amer-i-caah!"  
"Tikka tikka wow wah,"  
"Dred-lahk Ras-tah!"  
This went on for some time, they started over three times and added six new verses.  
"Dis," said Nitram, before forgetting what he was about to say.  
"I know man, it is like a total thing."  
"I and I say, all fruit ripe, bredda mon."  
"You're feelin' it man. Pass the wizard."  
"Stah deh dred, me gwat de si'ting." He took a prodigious hit from the bong wizard.  
"I'm totally all about that, man, pass the wizard though for real."  
  
The door to the carport was slammed open and Gramzee entered, batting away at the thick fragrant clouds of smoke with her shawl furiously.  
"I thought I smelled something! Is this what you boys have been up to all the while? For shame!"  
Makara snorted and swallowed a massive hit, collapsing with a coughing fit. Nitram went pale and tried to scramble backwards, but he could only manage a sort of slow, gentle flailing.  
"De Babylon com!"  
"Oh shit, I'm totally sorry moms,"  
"That's my medicine! I need it for my glaucoma!"  
"Haillie Selassie!"  
"Sorry, mom,"  
She groaned, giving up on getting even a modicum of sense out of the heavily stoned men. "Ach, what can I do. The boys are asleep, I wanted to tell you. I took little Tavros up to Gamzee's room with him and they're just like little sleeping angels, not that you'd care!"  
"Ja Rastafar-eye-ay!"  
"Sorry, mom,"  
"Eh-h-h, what's a poor mother to do?" She sat down on the step with a grunt, "pass the wizard."


	3. Chapter 3

The longstanding bitter irritation which existed between the households of Nitram and Makara was a tree with many roots, and if the ice had been somewhat fractured between them by a heavy session with the bong wizard there was still more then enough ice left to float a pack of penguins. Gramzee made enigmatic comments every time Makara tried to subtly bring up the fact that she had a perfectly good house of her own but as a week passed it became increasingly clear that she was good and settled for the time being. The children grew only closer, and they openly played together in each others' gardens. Their fathers had become reconciled to the fact that their lives were becoming intertwined whether they liked it or not.

Against this background of an uneasy truce both fathers were surprised to be called in the middle of the day and asked to come to school, as their respective children had been fighting and the authorities felt it best that they were removed for the rest of the day. Nitram strode into the waiting area in front of the principal's office and saw Makara already there, squatting as best he could in a plastic chair designed for someone much smaller. He stood and snarled;  
 _"Nnnnitram!"_  
"What has your boy done this time Makara?"  
"My boy? My boy!"  
"Oh come on, your son is a bad influence! This would never have happened if-"  
They were interrupted by a hiss for quiet from behind them, where a stern looking secretary was trying to concentrate on her work. The two men continued bickering in mime and hushed tones until the door to the office opened and the principal beckoned them in.

Principal Leijon was dressed in one of her infamous loud woollen sweaters and was constantly fiddling with a loose strand at the cuffs, or with a handkerchief, or a pencil, or anything. She invited them to take a seat at her desk and looked at them with a watery, wide-eyed expression that spoke of someone who resolutely believed that every child had good in them despite the evidence.  
"Thank you for coming, both of you, really. I had hoped for the parent of the other boy to be here but it doesn't look that that will be possible, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting like that," she pushed a china bowl across the desk, "candy?"  
"Now see here," began Nitram, "I'd just like to say first of all that there has to be some kind of a mistake here, and when I get to the bottom of this I assure you- Makara!"  
The larger man was rooting around in the candy bowl greedily and making an unholy racket of crinkling plastic candywrappers. He looked up guiltily when he realised the others were watching him and slowly withdrew from the bowl with a random candy.  
"As I was saying, my son is simply not the sort to be engaging in violence, and if anything I think we need to be looking at the kind of unsavoury influences that have been- Makara I swear to god if you don't just eat that candy or put it down so help me...!"  
"I can't get the little wrapping thing off,"  
"Principal Leijon, I want to assure you that,"  
"It's stuck, can I have another one?"  
"Of course Mr Makara," she smiled, "please help yourself,"  
"I want to assure you-"  
"I want one of the yellow ones, can I have a yellow one?"  
"Of course,"  
"I want to-"  
"Omf. Omf. Omf."  
"I want-"  
"Omf. Omf."  
"Makara! Would you stop sucking so noisily? Would you? How are you even doing that?"  
Principal Leijon patted her hands together with a non-judgemental and appropriate clapping noise, "I think I'm starting to get more of an understanding of the situation,"  
"No!" Said Nitram frantically, "No, no, we aren't fighting! I promise, I'll tell Tavros to have nothing more to do with that little reprobate,"  
"Omf. Omf. Omf.  
"Makara! I'm going to stab you in the trachea I swear to god!"  
"Mr Nitram!" Said the principal, flushing slightly, "I'm shocked!"  
"Yeah, _Nnnnitram_ , you're a shockin' dude. I'm all scandalized and whatnot," Makara grinned like the cat who had not only got the cream but was bathing in it in front of all the other cats.  
"Please, please gentlemen," she was grinning worriedly and glancing at them in turn, "we do have quite a lot to discuss if we can just get started?"  
"Urgh, whatever," Makara shifted and sniffed, "I'll tell my boy not to pick on his boy so bad."  
"Mr Makara, I'm afraid it really isn't like that,"  
"You hear that Makara! Looks like it's Tavros who's been doing the picking!" Nitram couldn't help but smirk, Makara gave him a look filled with baleful loathing.  
"Please! Gentlemen! It's not like that at all. I'm afraid your boys have both been ganging up on another boy."  
"Oh my god! They've started a gang!"  
"Relax, Nitram, it's just kids acting out."  
"I was hoping to have the boy's parents here, but I don't think Mr Vantas is going to be able to make it,"  
"Well sh-" Makara caught the principal's innocent wide-eyed look and swallowed, "-shoot, what are we even here for? We'll tell the boys to lay off, problem fu- fully solved."  
She sighed and pursed her lips, both of the men leaned forwards imperceptibly, "The thing is, I haven't been able to get in touch with Mr Vantas all year, for anything. The phone just rings out. I was hoping that maybe if you could ask your boys to be more friendly with little Karkat, maybe even include him in their social circle, it might help things. I feel as a principal that when a family is finding it difficult to interface with the schooling paradigm," she steepled her fingers together, "that a holistic community-based approach is the best first option."  
The two men stared at her, dumbfounded, then at each other.  
"I want everyone to make friends!" She beamed.  
With the little meeting concluded they left. Principal Leijon turned to her filing cabinet and extracted one of her many and detailed charts. There was a photograph of each parent of children in the class of Tavros and Gamzee, and various lines in different colours connected them, often with annotations and little cartoon diagrams in her looping scrawl. Mr Makara and Mr Nitram were bunched together, with several jagged thick black lines between them. She hummed to herself thoughtfully and used a red ballpoint to draw a thin tentative line between them in red, adding a few question marks. In one corner of the chart was a square containing a question mark, where no picture was to be found. Under it was written "Vantas" and there were no lines connecting to that square.  
"Not yet, anyway," she muttered.

The two men had to take their boys home, and after a few hushed discussions the two fathers decided that everyone would meet at Nitram's house for dinner. Nitram insisted as he said it was his turn to be host, although in truth he wanted to avoid the temptation to let the evening turn into another stoned jam session. Gramzee insisted on making up a batch of her famous stew for Makara to bring along, and Makara slouched across the border between their homes at dinner time with an over-excited Gamzee in tow bouncing behind him. Both of the boys were absolutely delighted to have been sent home early, it had not been impressed upon them fully that they weren't being in some way rewarded.

The two boys greeted each other happily and Gamzee immediately skidded around behind Tavros, grabbing on the handles of his wheelchair and propelling him away to go and play at a frantic speed. Nitram raised his hands as if he wanted to stop them, but sighed and dropped them slowly, and the two men wandered toward the kitchen.  
"Look at those two, they're like peas in a pod."  
"Yeah the little shits are pretty tight I guess."  
"I guess it's doing Tavros good to have a best friend. He's been coming out of his shell a lot already."  
"Yeah? Heh, Gamzee's crazy about the little bastard, always goin' on about somethin' or other they've been gettin' up to," Makara rubbed at the back of his neck and grimaced, "and he's not acting like such a complete dumbass I guess. Must be your kid's brains rubbin' off."  
"Heh, yeah. So anyway, I'm not much of a cook, is that some of your mom's cooking I smell there?"  
"Yeah sure," Makara handed over the warm crockery pot, he was distracted by a framed photograph on the wall, "who's the chick?"  
Nitram turned away and busied himself around the stove, "my wife, that was taken the year before Tavros was born."  
"Nice. Your old lady leave your ass? That's what happened to me. Fuckin' upped and left, didn't even leave me a note. Fucked me over."  
"No, no. She died," Nitram smiled a weak, brittle smile, "there was an accident. That's how Tavros got," he left it hanging in the air.  
The two men just stood for a time, contemplating this new knowledge. They looked at each other in a slightly different light, they had both been hurt by the women in their lives in different ways.

The plan was to get the boys sat down to eat, and to gently broach the subject of their behaviour with them. Nitram insisted that they not take an accusatory tone, and come at this from a position of loving support. Makara countered that he wanted to give his little shit major high-fives for putting the beat down on and showing the class he was no-one's bitch. Nitram modified his position and tried to convince Makara that they ought to be at least a little upset at what their boys had done. Makara rolled his eyes and grunted, but he didn't specifically disagree.

The boys were subdued at dinner. They knew that something was up, they could tell their parents were up to something. Tavros kept glancing up nervously at his dad, who was glaring at Mr Makara and miming "go on!" while nodding surreptitiously at them. Gamzee wasn't sure what was going on, so he distracted himself from the situation by gently patting the surface of his stew with his palm and listening to the awesome splashing noise. Mr Nitram coughed impatiently and finally decided to take the initiative himself.  
"Now listen boys," he began, "we wanted to talk to you about how you've been behaving recently, and why it's not right."  
"We FUCKING LOVE you," screamed Mr Makara, pointing at the two boys accusingly.  
"Uh, yes, and you need to realise what you have been doing is wrong."  
"We support the SHIT out of you!"  
"That's... that's true but still, we're really quite upset,"  
"You little fuckers RULE!"  
"Excuse us a moment, boys," Mr Nitram smiled warmly and put an arm around Mr Makara's brawny shoulders, pulling him into a hushed whispering conference. Mr Makara looked at him blankly for a moment then they turned back to their highly confused children.  
"I think," said Makara slowly, "that you are AWESOME and you just... fucked up so bad... but I love you anyways," he glanced at Nitram as he spoke slowly, who nodded to him in encouragement, "but... you boys need to stop beatin' on the Vantas kid. Or else I'll FUCK YOU UP!"  
Nitram groaned, but he had to commend Makara for doing the best he could.  
"Why have you been picking on your little friend Karkat?" He asked quietly, giving the boys a stern glance.  
"Eridan says he's dirty," began Tavros faltering slowly.  
"Who's that?"  
"He's a bigger boy," added Gamzee, as if that explained much, "he's six," he added by way of a corollary.  
"Well Gamzee, I don't think it's nice to call someone dirty," countered Nitram.  
"He is dirty," replied Gamzee, with the unquestioned authority of a child repeating something they have been told by someone else, "and Eridan says he's poor. 'Cause his dad is a retard"  
They stared, in silence. Nitram didn't know what to say, and Makara was out of his depth, he was obviously composing something else to yell and Nitram put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Tavros was actually nodding in agreement with Gamzee.  
"Boys, that's a very awful thing to say about someone, did you know that?"  
Two shaking heads, two sets of wide curious eyes. So innocent, so able to hurt.  
"Karkat smells," announced Gamzee, "and his dad is a retard, and he's prob'ly a retard too, and no one likes him." He took a deep breath, this was practically a speech coming from Gamzee, "and no one talks to him either, uh so we don't have to either." He slouched, spent. Tavros nodded firmly.  
"We both think you need to be nicer to Karkat," said Nitram a little lamely, "and don't say things like that about people."  
"And stay away from this Eridan kid, he sounds like a fuckin' douche," added Makara.

They hadn't achieved anything, and they both knew it. They had concentrated on getting the boys to sit and listen, and assumed that it would be enough to just tell them to lay off, but their children had been so nonchalant about their attitude toward the Vantas kid, neither man could remember what it was like to have such an unsubtle view of someone. Even Makara was a little shaken to hear his little boy talk like that. It wasn't like the boys had even been angry, or especially vindictive. They just felt that when judgement was passed down on someone by the awful jury of the classroom then it was not to be questioned, and the guilty were beneath consideration.

He told Gamzee to get the fuck to bed and cracked open a beer, collapsing into his favourite leather armchair with torturous creak. He barely noticed when his mother came into the room and started knitting. He sipped at his beer and tried to ignore the steady, rhythmic clicker-clack of needles against each other hammering on his skull. Finally he looked up in irritation to find Gramzee staring directly at him.  
"WHAT?"  
"What is what? Can't I knit in peace?"  
"Fine."  
He got back to his beer and stared at the wall. Click, click, click.  
"There's this kid in Gamzee's class, and the boys have been giving him a hard time."  
"Mm." Click, click.  
"So we were gonna just straighten them out a bit, tell 'em to lay off."  
"Ah, ah." Click, click.  
"He just looks at me, and totally rips on this kid like he's nothin'. I never heard him call anyone a retard before. I mean, it's one thing to be a badass and stand up for yourself, but he just didn't care. It was like he was talkin' about just some thing not even a human."  
Gramzee set her knitting aside gratefully, she despised knitting. "Tell mama all about it."

After he had told her about the entire affair, starting with the meeting in the school, she sat back and ruminated on the situation thoroughly, informing him that she would appreciate a nip of gin to aid the process, which he fetched for her.  
"Little Gamzee is growing up so fast, and he needs to learn how to be a mencsh, this is what you must do for him as the man of the house."  
"Shit mom I don't even know. How do you make a kid like that stop being a dick? It's not like he really listens to me anyway, I just yell at him all the time and he wanders around doing whatever anyway."  
She placed her hand on his, he noted that his mother's hands were tiny in comparison, she used to be able to hold both his hands in one of hers.  
"He has a good father who will raise him well, and I know this because I have a good son."  
"Mom, how do I deal with something like this? I know what I need to tell him, but I just don't know... words for it."  
"I take back what I said before,"  
"Mom?"  
"You'd make an awful lawyer."  
He grinned despite himself.  
"So what now mom?"  
"You need to take the boys to see this boy and make peace."  
"I don't really wanna do that. Hell it's what kids are like now I guess, and the kid's dad didn't even bother turning up to the school so why should I make all the effort anyway?"  
Suddenly he found her gripping his hand tighter and looked down at her face.  
"My beautiful boy, there was a time when people said we were less then human, and who spoke for us then? You can't let your son think that way, even for a moment."  
"I don't know how to explain to him."  
"God saw fit to give you a friend who's good with words, to help."  
 _"Nnnnitram!"_


	4. Chapter 4

The two men drove up to the Vantas household in silence, in Makara's big black car. They had contacted the principal and she had given them the address. Normally, she said, she would not of course hand out details like that but in effect they were acting as representatives of the wider scholastic community- and at that point Makara had largely tuned out. As it happened, Vantas lived near by, only a few streets away. They had never seen him before though, he was thought of locally as something of a recluse. Nitram had asked around his friends in the PTA and none of them had even spoken to him, which was unusual as the school under the urgings of principal Leijon tended to be highly inclusive of families.

They parked and spent a moment just looking at the house. Nitram sucked on his lips.  
"What are we even doing here? This feels weird."  
"My mom reckons this is the way to handle shit."  
"Hm," Nitram had to admit he respected Gramzee.  
"Besides, you want your boy to keep on gettin' into shit at school?"  
"I suppose that's true. All right, let's go then."

They stepped out and approached the house. Everything about it suggested a desire to be left alone. The unpainted fence was at chest-height all around, and the garden looked largely untended. The building itself, a clapboard-sided affair with a low roof, seemed to hunker down warily, squatting at the end of it's driveway like a cornered beast. As they approached, the silence of the yard seemed oppressive. Makara held a cardboard six pack carton of beer bottles that clinked and bubbled, and his heavy boots with the line of buckles creaked and jingled. For once Nitram was grateful that the other man seemed to find his inability to be quiet comforting for there was no other sound.

When they got to the door, Makara was a self-conscious step behind him so Nitram knocked. There was no bell, only a lighter space on the paintwork with empty screwholes where one had once been mounted. There was no noise from within at first, only a low shuffling sound, wary and suspicious, of someone approaching the door slowly from the other side. Eventually the door was opened a crack by a little boy who peered at them around the edge of the door suspiciously. He was no older then Gamzee or Tavros but he had a glare like, in Nitram's opinion, a furious adult and in Makara's opinion like a tweeking meth head.  
Nitram cleared his throat, "hello little fellow," he began in the chirpy tone of someone who thinks that he is really Good With Kids, "could we speak to your daddy today?"  
"My dad isn't here," replied the child, with a sarcastic grimace.  
"Do you know when he'll be back?"  
The boy heaved a sigh. "He's gone out and he'll be gone for hours and hours," he sounded like he was repeating verbatim something he had memorised carefully.  
"Is there someone else here we can talk to?"  
"No."  
"Maybe an older brother or sister?"  
"No."  
"A babysitter?"  
"No."  
"You're telling us you're here all on your own?"  
"Yeah."  
"I... I don't really believe that, son."  
"So?"  
"What?"  
"So you don't believe it. So?"  
Makara patted him gently on the shoulder and smiled. Nitram yielded the floor to his esteemed colleague who leaned over to address the boy, who cringed slightly at the sight of him.  
"Listen kid. Go get your fuckin' dad, or I'll kick your fuckin' ass."  
"You can't just-!"  
The boy was cut short when Makara drove  his fist into the doorframe an inch from his face, with a resounding crack. The boy squeaked and darted off into the Stygian gloom of the house yelling for his dad. Nitram looked at Makara in shock.  
"You weren't really going to...?"  
"'Course not, but the kid's, like, five how's he gonna fuckin' know?" Makara smirked, it was like a cruel leer, and Nitram chuckled softly.

The door was opened more fully, a man stood there. He was thin, gaunt. His skin was pale and he clearly didn't get much sun. He was wearing entirely nondescript clothing, a pair of black slacks into which was neatly tucked a light cream polo shirt, and Makara noted he also had on hiking boots, and a pair of tennis wristbands.  
"Hello?"  
"Mister Vantas?" Nitram held out his hand to shake, but Vantas only looked at it with a slightly panicked expression and shook his head.  
"What is it?"  
"Could we talk to you?"  
Vantas just nodded, he didn't move otherwise.  
"Listen bro," said Makara, "we brought beers an' shit, let's sit down and crack a couple open."  
"I don't drink," replied Vantas quietly, fiddling with his fingers, "I don't like to. I'd, I'd really just like it if you left now actually."  
Makara was at a loss. He had threatening the kid and he'd tried offering beer. He was officially out of ideas, he looked at Nitram and raised his eyebrows to hint that he'd got nothing.  
"Vantas," said Nitram slowly, "we're not here to cause trouble, we really do just want to talk, maybe get to know each other better." He heaved a sigh, "my boy wasn't doing so well in school. He's," he still found the next part hard to say aloud, "in a wheelchair, he doesn't make friends easily and I don't know what to do sometimes. But he made friends with Makara's little lad, and it's really made a difference to him. Now I hear our boys have been getting up to trouble around your boy and we want to make things right," he looked at Makara, who just nodded, "please?"  
Vantas hesitated, but he looked down behind him at his son, who was frowning furiously and lurking in the hallway behind the coatstand, and then he opened the door and waved them in.

The house was dingy and pale net curtains were drawn over all of the windows which gave it a crepuscular air of gloom but it was neatly appointed and tidy, if a little sparse. They went into the lounge which was attached directly to the kitchen. Makara and Nitram sat together awkwardly on the couch while Vantas seemed to hover about nervily. Their presence was obviously very difficult for him, and he wouldn't stop crossing and uncrossing his arms.

Makara opened up a beer, and offered more around. Nitram sighed and refused, as one of them had to be in some shape to drive at least, and after a little vacillation Vantas agreed to take one.  
"Shit brother, nice house," remarked Makara in what was for him a friendly tone.  
"Thank you."  
"You got nice. Carpets. And whatnot."  
"Thank you." Vantas sipped his beer.  
After going around the introductions, Nitram smiled warmly. "So Vantas, how long have you been in the neighbourhood?"  
"I moved here in, uh, ninety-nine I think it was."  
"That long? I see. I work at the veterinary clinic down on South and Greenton, Makara here is an artist of course. What do you, ah...?"  
"I don't," said Vantas flatly. "I can't, just right now. I don't like to," he took a breath, "I'm really not very," his voice was slowing down and he scrunched his eyes closed for a moment before continuing, "I'm really not so good with people. I'm sorry, I'm being a terrible host here,"  
"It's fine. Won't you sit though? You look nervous."  
"I really don't."  
"Vantas, come on,"  
"Please! I don't want to talk about this, I don't like to talk and thank you for coming over, but I don't want to talk now." He was balling his narrow fists at his side.  
Makara had been glancing around the room, and fixed on a framed picture on the side table next to him. He always went straight to the pictures. He picked it up without asking, it was a grainy photograph of a line of men, mostly smiling, in front of beige tents under a spectacular vivid blue sky. He put it together in a flash.  
"Shit, you were a marine?"  
"Army chaplain," snapped Vantas, "put that down please."  
"Aw yeah, there you are, right? That one? Where was this?"  
Vantas walked across the room and took the picture from him, replacing it neatly in the same spot. "Quatar, that was back in ninety-two. Just after the pull-out from Kuwait."  
"Iraq, right?"  
"That's right."

They were quiet a moment. Makara sipped his beer.  
"Chaplain? That's a priest, right?"  
"Sort of, yes."  
Nitram chipped in quietly, "are you still a chaplain?"  
"No, not now."  
"I understand, I'm sorry." He nudged Makara who just grunted and looked down.  
"Don't be sorry, it's fine, I just want to be left alone."  
"Is it just you and your son here?"  
"Yes,"  
"Must be hard for little Karkat,"  
Vantas looked as though that had stung, but Nitram kept talking.  
"I know how it is when you want to do your best but you feel like nothing helps."  
"We don't need any help,"  
Vantas had a flat tone, without emotion. Nitram could feel that he had touched something but the man was withdrawing again like a wounded animal at bay.  
"Uh," Makara began, glancing between the two of them awkwardly, "I don't know words an' shit, but this fucker over here knows what he's talkin' about. I just figure," he groped for words lamely, "my boy is bein' a complete dick an' I need to help him not be. So. Bring your kid over my place. We'll let the little shits have good times, kick back with some brews, it'd be, uh, very good."  
Nitram beamed and patted him on the shoulder, "that's right! A bit of a party for the kids, they can make friends and let's face it we're none of us great at socialising them. If we don't make the effort then they'll grow up just like us!"  
Makara laughed at that, even Vantas managed a shy smile. The ice was melting.

Later in the evening the Makara household was throbbing with a bass beat that made the windows rattle as Nitram wheeled his son up.  
"Dad," said Tavros quietly, "I don't wanna."  
"Come on now Tav, you'll like it."  
"Me and Gam don't like Karkat."  
Nitram paused and swivelled his son around, kneeling down in front of him.  
"Tavros, you like Gamzee don't you?"  
"Yeah! He's my best friend. Can it just be me and Gamzee?"  
"Listen Tavros, this is important."  
"Okay."  
"Did you know, that me and Gamzee's dad really didn't used to like each other at all."  
Tavros squirmed a little uncomfortably, unsure what he was being told.  
"In fact, I didn't want you to see Gamzee at all. I was going to stop you going around to his house ever!"  
"No-o-o-o!"  
"I know, I know. But listen. When me and Gamzee's dad started talking, you know we found that maybe we could be friends after all. That's what happens when people start to really talk to each other, you see?"  
"I guess,"  
"So if you and Gamzee can make friends, and me and Gamzee's dad can make friends, maybe you and little Karkat Vantas can make friends too?"  
"Maybe,"  
"Will you try?"  
"Um. Okay dad."  
"That's my boy."  
"It sounds very loud."  
"Yes I'm going to ask Mr Makara to turn down his horrible music, don't worry."

When they arrived Gamzee answered the door and welcomed them in. Makara was already getting his groove on in the lounge next to his ancient hi-fi and when Nitram insisted the music be turned down Gramzee rewarded him with one of the exquisite sweet pastries she had been baking since the afternoon. They were incredible and Gramzee looked pleased as punch, she insisted he have another. Nitram shared a look with Makara.  
"Do you think he'll show up?"  
"Fuck, he said he would didn't he?"  
"Yes, but still..."  
"I figure, if he doesn't we go an' burn down his house."  
"Makara, sometimes you are just... I don't even!"  
"I know, right?"  
Makara laughed and wrapped a bear-like arm around him, pushing a beer into his hand.

Vantas did show up. He looked even more pale in the dim evening light, and Karkat stood behind him looking unhappy about everything. Vantas had on a light green military jacket that had seen better days, with a cross on the shoulder. Nitram answered the door and took his coat without a word, calling on the boys to come and say hi to Karkat. Vantas was tugged into the lounge by Makara and forcibly offered a beer. He scratched nervously at his wrist bands and nodded in time to the music, while Gramzee bustled about with her pastries.

The boys took Karkat into the yard where they were playing. Gamzee explained in a lazy drawl the imaginary scene they had created in the back garden with the aid of several action figures and a toy tank. Karkat looked unimpressed, his mouth was a permanently sour scowl. Tavros couldn't shake what his dad had told him.  
"K-karkat," he began a little uncertainly, "we're sorry about, uh, being mean."  
"Shit, yeah we sorry bro," added Gamzee helpfully.  
"You said my dad was a retard." Replied Karkat flatly.  
"Uh, yeah. Sorry," Tavros looked down, suddenly it wasn't seeming as funny when it was just them and Karkat together.  
"Well he's not!"  
Gamzee and Tavros looked at each other uncomfortably.  
"Okay," sad Gamzee quietly, "whatever."

It wasn't much. Karkat glared at the action figures arranged around the garden and sneered.  
"This is all stupid."  
"Hey-y-y," whined Tavros, he wasn't liking Karkat the way his dad had said he would. He was afraid that he would start crying and self-consciously grabbed at the side of Gamzee's pants.  
"It is! You got a tank right there and it's just gonna squish all your guys."  
"No it won't!" Said Gamzee hotly, "they will all shoot it up 'cause the tank is the baddies," it was a simple equation.  
"No," retorted Karkat mockingly, "my dad told me, he used to be in the army and he had tanks. He said he saw a tank roll over a car and the guys inside it were all squished up and mashed up, and then they were shooting but," he paused for breath, "you can't shoot a tank, it just mashes you up."  
The boys digested this theory appreciatively. They began to rearrange the action figures while Karkat told them authoritatively how these things worked. He was lurid with the details, which the others found especially interesting.

At the lounge window Makara grinned and called over the others.  
"Shit look at that, they're really goin' at it!"  
Nitram and Vantas came over to watch. The boys were going around in circles now. Tavros had the tank in his lap and Karkat was pushing him, while Gamzee was acting the part of being squished over and over. Had they known the details of the game they might have been horrified, but the parents just saw their sons at play and were content.

Nitram smiled and slapped Makara on the back, and he grinned wide. Vantas took a sip of his beer and nodded thoughtfully, and they stepped away from the window. They had a card game to get back to, around the coffee table.

Nitram picked up his card and swapped two out.  
"So Vantas," he began, "not so bad, eh?"  
"Sure, it's fine," Vantas just glared down at his cards, and tried to remember when he had felt so happy.  
"Hit me!" Roared Makara, and the other two stared at him  
"Makara, you know you can't just keep taking cards? This is poker, not blackjack."  
"Fuck," Makara put one down, "now hit me!"  
Vantas chuckled lightly as he passed over a card face down. Nitram cleared his throat and tried not to think about what he would see if Vantas wasn't wearing those wrist bands.  
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened after that picture was taken in Quatar? You didn't stay in the army?"  
"I could have, I guess. But it wasn't the same. My job was to minister to those men, and when I got home again, I just," he scratched at his nose thoughtfully, "I couldn't do it any more. I never even questioned myself while I was out in Iraq, it was when I got back and I had to just act like everything was back to normal again." He shrugged. "Couldn't do it. Honourable discharge, stress."  
"It can't be easy being a man of god in a war zone."  
Vantas nodded, "not easy. Then, I guess I just went a bit... I mean it wasn't so bad. I had help, the army always looks after you after, you know. Got a house, I had a thing for a while with this girl, and we had Karkat. But she didn't want to stay. She actually said one time, before she left, she didn't like the way Karkat looked at her. I guess it was her way of saying it wasn't my fault."  
"Women!" Agreed Makara. "Right?"  
Nitram raised his bottle with a wry smile, "women! Here's to 'em!" They all clinked bottlenecks gravely with him.

Gramzee came into the room, buttoning up her coat, and the three of them looked up. She smiled warmly, she was so pleased to see her son with his new friends. She had her big carpet bag with her.  
"Mom?"  
"I just wanted to say, there's a little stew left in the big blue bot on the over, you're to make sure little Gamzee eats plenty. And help yourselves to rugelachs, they won't keep so eat them all tonight."  
Nitram stood up, "Mrs Makara? Where are you going?"  
"Oh, I didn't mention? I am going to dinner with Mrs Pyrope, we have so much to catch up on! And my house, they tell me the fumigation is done, so she can give me a lift home after."  
"Mom?" Makara's face fell, "you're just going?"  
"I'm just going. I don't want to be a burden to you, and there's no need to worry as I am told there is a common device nowadays which allows young men to keep in touch with their poor old mothers more often!"  
Makara nodded, it was only ever a temporary thing, but still... "I thought, maybe you could stay a while?"  
"I must say," added Nitram, "I'll miss your cooking and I know Tavros will too!"  
Her face crinkled into the largest smile, "ah, boys, I am always only a little way down the road! Maybe visit your old Gramzee sometimes?"  
"What do I tell Gamzee?" Asked Makara quietly.  
"I don't want any goodbyes, he will only be upset. Better this way."

She was already going to the door. She had worked everything out long in advance, a car was pulling up at the end of the drive, with the cackling Mrs Pyrope at the wheel. Gramzee hallooed to her and waved, pausing to kiss her son on the cheeks.  
"Now boys," she admonished, "you behave yourself."  
"Mo-o-o-m!" Makara protested.  
"Grandville Hiram Makara!" She snapped.  
"Yes, mom."  
She began to hobble away, still talking as she went. "Now let me see, I packed everything away, there's clean clothes in your cupboard- for once! Shame! Ah, and I may have forgotten some of my glaucoma medication," she turned and winked, "I'm so forgetful! Baggie on the night-stand."  
As she left Nitram and Makara started to chuckle and grin at each other.  
"What's so funny?" Asked Vantas.  
"Vantas," said Nitram merrily, "you're in for a treat!"  
"Yeah," laughed Makara, "I'll get the wizard."

 

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/broba_fett/pic/0002ffgx/)


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